I Thought We Were Friends
by ReederJoe
Summary: Whytnee Wyatt and Nick Carson are practically family- they've been through so much. When the bodies start piling up, the two of them band together to help protect themselves and their friends. You know the old saying- keep your friends close and your enemies closer. What do you do when you don't even know who your enemy is? Well...what are friends for? (OC's- none from Scream)
1. Prologue

**Are you as surprised as I am that I'm writing something NOT related to Dan and Phil?**

 **This is technically a remake, as the original trilogy (Yes, trilogy) was posted over on fictionpress, back when I thought I had original ideas. Naturally, a lot of people said it was similar to Scream, and after FIVE years, I've returned to fix the story. I've learned so much since then, and I'm hoping to give a successful rebirth to the trilogy that started my amateur writing career. So sit back, grab some popcorn, and enjoy the show!**

 **As always, reviews are cherished, and I love you all!**

 **-Justin**

 _Riiiiiiiiiiing_.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

Lucy Stevens let out a sigh as she parted her pink lips to answer. Kate Marston waited on the other end of the line. Loud music could be heard in the background, and Kate pressed the phone tighter to her ear to hear better. Lucy ran a hand roughly through her dark hair. Rain pelted the windows outside Lucy's house.

Finally, she spoke. "At the house."

" _What_?" Kate screeched, causing Lucy to make a face and hold the phone a couple inches from her cheek. "You promised."

"Something came up," Lucy lied, leaning back into the couch cushion. Truthfully, she'd only told Kate she'd be there so Kate would stop asking her to go. She had no interest in these…underground parties, as Kate had called them. But Kate knew her too well.

"You chickened out," Kate corrected, twisting a finger through her blond curls. She couldn't be mad, though. She knew how Lucy was. They were opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to socializing and going out. More than once, she'd been asked how they ended up together. She made a small noise of assent before saying, "Don't worry about it, love."

"I'm sorry," Lucy promised. "I wanted to come, you know I did"-

"Babe, chill," Kate cut in, giggling softly. "It's okay. I'll be over in twenty." She paused a moment before adding, "I love you."

"Love you, too," Lucy replied right before the line went dead. She pulled the phone away and stared at it a moment before dropping it down beside her on the sofa. She couldn't help but smile, despite the fact that Kate often made things very difficult. She figured it was just Kate's strange way of helping her open up more. Whatever the case, she was glad for it. Kate was the only one who knew how she was and still wanted to be around her.

 _Riiiiiiiing!_

Lucy grabbed for the phone on the second ring. "Kate," she began, half-smiling.

"Who's Kate?" asked the voice on the other line. Lucy's eyes widened slightly as she realized.

"Oh, s-sorry," Lucy blurted out. "I'm sorry, I thought"- She pursed her lips suddenly as the words got stuck in her throat. She licked her lips to try again. She'd always hated when this happened- her throat closing up and cutting off what she was trying to say.

"Hey, it's alright," the man- it sounded like a man, at least- soothed in a strangely calming voice. Lucy found herself breathing easier already. "I must've dialed wrong."

"Yeah," Lucy agreed in a whisper, wishing she could make herself louder. "Well, have a good night, sir."

"Wait, wait," he said, causing her to jump slightly. "Don't go so soon." Pause. "We've only just met."

"We haven't really met," Lucy reminded him. She was already preparing to press the 'end call' button, because this guy was making her anxious. She held the phone in front of her face, fingers hovering over the screen.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Lucy _yelp_ ed and pressed the button, cutting the stranger off. The silence that followed was almost overwhelming, and she sat back again, feeling the weight in her chest. She stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

 _Riiiiiiiing!_

Lucy stared at the phone, unblinking. _Unknown Caller_ screamed before her eyes, and she did something she never thought she'd _ever_ do.

She touched the screen and answered the call.

"I told you not to hang up on me, you little bitch." Any inflection of the calm demeanor this man was attempting had vanished, leaving a cold snarl in its place.

"Wow," Lucy retorted, feeling a strange sense of confidence. "Zero to one hundred real quick." She sucked in a ragged breath as she prepared her next sentence, but she was cut off by the sound of someone pounding the door. Lucy ended the call without another word and hopped up with a smile to go let her girlfriend in.

"Hey, baby," Kate greeted, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Lucy's cheek. Lucy pulled her into a hug and held her in the doorway for a moment before Kate let out a squeal of, "Back up, let me in. I'm getting soaked!" Her hands went to Lucy's shoulders.

"Whoops." They stepped back together, Kate still holding Lucy, until Lucy was pressed against the wall across from the door. Kate slid a palm up to hold the side of Lucy's face and had just touched their lips together when Lucy's phone began ringing again.

"You okay?" Kate asked when she realized how tense Lucy was. Lucy turned her head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of her phone's screen lighting up. She couldn't read the words from this far away, but she had a feeling she knew who was calling. "Lucy."

"He keeps calling," Lucy finally said, swallowing the lump that had built in her throat. She turned back to look at Kate with wide eyes. "I don't know. It's probably Ken." Ken Stevens was a friend of theirs, known throughout the school for his class-clown antics. With a grunt, Kate pushed away from Lucy and stalked over to the sofa, snatching up the phone and answering it in one fluid motion. She huffed as she opened her mouth to tell Ken off.

"Put Lucy on," the voice hissed before Kate could say anything. She side-eyed the screen in disbelief, wondering how the stranger knew. Lucy made her way slowly across the living room.

"Sorry, but I'm screening all calls from psychos," Kate said. "Would you care to leave a message?"

 _Crash!_

"Check the kitchen." _Click._

"What was that?" Lucy whispered furiously, latching onto Kate's side. "Was that him?"

"Hang on," Kate said, taking a step toward the kitchen door. Lucy's grip tightened on her arm, and she glanced back to say, "Luce, it's okay." She placed a hand over Lucy's and added, "Stay here. I'll check it out and be right back."

Lucy scowled, clearly not wanting them to separate, but she trusted Kate. She sat down on the edge of the sofa and clasped her hands together in her lap. Sometimes she really hated how anxious she got for seemingly no reason. It was obviously Ken doing this! He'd probably thrown a pot or something to scare them. He knew they'd be together tonight. "It's got to be Ken," she muttered to herself as Kate marched toward the kitchen.

"Alright, asshole," Kate announced, kicking the door open with the heel of her boot. Right away, she could see shards of glass on the tile floor that must have been the source of the crashing sound. As she looked around, she noticed the window was broken- that must be where the glass came from. There was a crumbling brick lying in front of the stove; Kate decided that must have been the reason for the broken window. "Show yourself. I know you're in here."

"Don't do anything stupid," Lucy called out.

"Don't worry," Kate called back, echoing the words she said to Lucy on an almost hourly basis. Kate took a step toward the silver sink that was situated underneath the shattered window frame and jumped right back when another brick came sailing through the darkness. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she answered it without looking at the screen.

"I won't miss again," was all she heard, and the line went dead before she could respond. Despite the aura she was trying to give off- for Lucy's sake, of course- she had to admit, this whole thing was a little more than creepy. Even if it _was_ Ken's idea of a joke, he'd seriously almost hit her with that brick.

"Cut the shit, Ken," Kate said loudly, expecting him to pop up in the window frame. Once you called him out on it, he usually gave up. She screamed when, instead of Ken's chubby face, she saw a black figure appear. Kate's eyes darted to the back door two feet from the window and she ran, grabbing the knob right as the stranger began pounding the glass. Thankfully, it was locked, but that didn't seem to be a problem as the man brought his gloved fist back and shoved it through, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Kate threw an arm over her face and held a firm grip on the doorknob with the other. For the first time, Kate noticed his face- well, whatever was covering his face. The guy looked like a ghost with the pasty mask shrouding his features, and the too-big grin built into the plastic was more than unsettling.

"You look uglier than normal in that getup," Kate scoffed, causing him to tilt his head to the side. A half-second later, his arm shot out, something glinted in the moonlight, and Kate shrieked in pain as the blade sliced across her forearm. The hand that had been holding the knob moved to cover the wound, and she stared at the ghost-faced man in horror. "Ken, what the hell?"

He shook his head once before lunging. Kate didn't have time to move out of the way when the knife came down again, this time in her shoulder. She let out a groan and tried to shove him away, but he only stood there a moment, watching as she slowly slid to the floor. His head tilted up, toward the doorway that separated them from Lucy, and Kate knew what he planned to do.

"Don't touch her, you psycho," Kate growled, reaching blindly for something to hold on to. She finally palmed the countertop and struggled back to her feet, glaring at the man who stood in complete silence. She could feel the energy draining out of her- he must have hit an artery, and now she found it almost impossible to even stand upright, let alone move. He held the knife at his side, blade dripping with her blood. She glanced down at it, noticing with wide eyes how large the blood stain was on her shirt, and said, "That all you've got?"

It was the wrong thing to say.

X

Lucy flew off the sofa when she heard Kate scream. She headed for the kitchen door, expecting the worst, when she heard the gurgling sound. It was all too similar to the way it sounded when they used to blow bubbles in their milk in elementary school. "Kate?" She called out tentatively. One hand touched the swinging door, and she pushed.

"Katie?" She called out once more before she saw it. Kate was on the floor, slumped over, a pool of blood slowly growing around her body. Lucy's jaw dropped, but she didn't scream, not even when she realized exactly what had happened. She could only stand there in stunned silence as a black-robed figure came at her from the side. She turned to face him at the last second, locking eyes with the crimson-tipped silver blade right as it was thrust into her stomach.

She staggered back and the knife was yanked out, dripping with fresh blood. She took a last look at her now dead girlfriend and swiped a thumb under both eyes before turning on her heels and stumbling as fast as she could toward the front door. In hindsight, she should've known it wouldn't work.

She felt the hand on her shoulder as she reached for the deadbolt. Two fingers pinched the lock and she twisted, falling to her knees when the knife sank into her back, right between her shoulder blades. The door popped open a crack and she sprawled out, a new pool of blood forming where she laid. Rough hands turned her over so she was on her back, pain shooting through her spine at the pressure. The man hovered over her with a pale, open-mouthed stare plastered onto his face. He raised the knife above his head, and Lucy lashed out, earning herself a slash to the wrist. Bright red oozed out, dripping in ribbons to the carpet. Before Lucy could even react, the knife was poised again, and a leather-clad hand brought it down to her chest, buried to the hilt.

Lucy let out a little whimper, gurgled a bit as blood dribbled over her lips, and then she twitched once before going still. The killer took hold of the knife and pulled it free before standing up and wiping it clean on his robe. He took a look around and walked back to the kitchen, admiring his work before disappearing through the back door and into the night.

 **A/N: Hey I hope you liked it. Have a good day, drink plenty of water, and don't murder your friends.**


	2. Chapter 1: Aftermath

**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you're all having a wonderful week! Enjoy!**

 **As always, reviews are cherished, and I love you all**

 **PS: periodically I will mention song titles. Listen to them! It makes the story better!**

Chapter One: Aftermath

Phoebe Masterson woke up with a jolt. A sheen of sweat shone on the parts of her forehead that weren't covered by matted brown hair. With slightly trembling hands, she reached up to push the locks out of her face and took a deep breath. She'd woken up right in the middle of a chase sequence and had been moments from death when her alarm clock began blasting through the room. For once in her life, she was grateful for the foghorn noise, even smiling a bit as she twisted around to sit up and turn it off.

She stretched out, raising her arms above her head and letting out a little moan before sliding off the bed and looking around for the clothes she'd laid out the night before. **(A/N: Start listening to Dirty Little Secret by All-American Rejects)** After a few seconds, she spotted the black sweater and dark jeans lying over the desk chair and walked over to grab them. The desk was situated across the room from her bed, directly underneath one of two windows. As she pulled the sweater over her head, she noticed a familiar silver mustang sitting in the driveway. One hand shot out to lift the pane and she shouted down, "You coming in for breakfast?"

The horn blared twice and then a car door opened to reveal a head full of blonde hair. Nick Carson stepped out and looked up at Phoebe, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. "Is your mom still on her vegan kick?" Phoebe just laughed and shut the window again. Nick watched her back away from the glass and slowly made his way around the back of the house to the kitchen door. Phoebe left her room and bounced down the stairs, unable to help the grin spreading across her face. She made it to the kitchen at the same time Nick did, and were both greeted by Phoebe's mom, Stacy. **(A/N: Music stops here)**

"Pancake?" Stacy offered, holding out two plates. She and Phoebe looked almost identical when they stood next to each other, except Stacy had green eyes and Phoebe had brown.

"That looks like a hockey puck," Nick said as he took a plate in his hands. Phoebe took the other with a grin still plastered across her face and they walked to the table together. Right as they sat down, Clare- Phoebe's younger sister- came running into the room, straight to Nick's side. Nick was probably her favorite person in the world. Without a word, he lifted her to his lap and let her sit on his knee while he attempted to eat the food Stacy had made.

"You're making silly faces again," Claire observed cheerfully when Nick's features scrunched up in distaste. He chewed a bite of the pancake twice and then spit it out into his napkin, scraping at his tongue with a finger.

"That bad?" Phoebe asked with a laugh, glancing down at her own untouched serving.

"It tastes like fertilizer," Nick whispered harshly after sneaking a glance toward Stacy. She stood at the stove, flipping things in a skillet. Phoebe laughed again- she always found herself feeling very giggly when Nick was around- and lifted her fork to try a bit. Nick slapped a hand over hers and shook his head once when Phoebe looked at him in confusion. "Not worth it," he informed her.

"This is gross, mama," Claire suddenly shouted, spitting out whatever she'd been eating.

"We're going to be late," Phoebe announced after checking her phone. They weren't really- it was only seven-thirty- but it was a good excuse to get out of eating the fertilizer discs without hurting her mom's feelings. She gave a pointed look in Nick's direction, to which he caught on quickly.

"Oh right," Nick said, prodding Claire gently off his lap so he could stand. "Mr. Fowl wants us to help set up for"-

"Theatre club," Phoebe cut in, already on her way to the door to get her bag. "Big showcase this weekend."

"Right," Nick said with a nod. He shouldered his own backpack and followed Phoebe outside before her mom could call them out.

"Wait a minute," Stacy called out. They both froze on their heels, but didn't turn. "Make sure Claire gets on the bus. I have to be somewhere soon." Claire squealed and ran off to get her stuff before anyone could say anything else. Some might say she had a bigger crush on Nick than Phoebe did.

"No problem," Phoebe said, taking Claire's hand when she appeared back at her side. She stuck her other hand out toward Nick, and he took it with a smile. **(A/N: DLS plays softly in the background for added effect)**

The three of them headed for the corner of Ellison Avenue and Wilkers Street, where the neighborhood but stop was. A couple of kids were already there, including Sarah Thorne and Elliot Stone. Although they weren't related in any way, they both had strawberry blonde hair reaching to their shoulders and emerald green eyes that looked majestic on Sarah, but made Elliot look like a cat.

"Hey Phoebe," Sarah called out, waving and smiling softly. "Hi, Claire." She wriggled her fingers toward Claire, who squealed with delight and pulled one hand free to wave back.

X X X

The bus arrived twenty minutes later. Elliot had been at the front of the line, but Nick shoved his way past- towing Phoebe and Claire behind him- to get on first. He made a bee line for the seat furthest back, hollering out, "Too late, Stone!" as he plopped down on the bench. Elliot gave him an icy glare as he took a seat halfway back, and Phoebe laughed as she sat down beside Nick.

"He's going to kick your ass one of these days," She said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "And I'm not going to hold him back."

"Won't need you to," Nick informed her in a serious tone, flexing both arms. "I can take care of myself."

"We'll see." **(A/N: Soundtrack stops)**

X X X

Wexford Central High School was, by most standards, a tiny school. It was one of the smallest in the state, which carried both good and bad things. One good thing: everyone knew everyone. There were hardly any cliques, and most every teacher knew every student plus their family.

One bad thing: everyone knew everyone. Secrets were impossible to keep.

"Did you hear?"

"It was all over the news."

"Hear what?"

"Murdered, they say."

"The killer's still loose."

"I didn't even know Lucy was gay, though."

"Why does that even matter?" **(A/N: Play Supermassive Black Hole by Muse)**

Phoebe and Nick weaved through the crowds situated around the courtyard in front of the building. The school itself was an L-shaped brick building with three floors. The previous graduating class had been less than 300. Phoebe's head whipped back and forth as she tried to listen to the conversations going on around her. She kept hearing something about Lucy Hawthorne and Kate Marston. The two of them walked up to a cluster of metal tables near the side entrance. There were already a few people gathered, and they stood up when they saw Nick.

"Dude, did you hear?" This came from Thomas Grafton, one of Nick's closest friends. He wore a thick head of black hair reaching to his chin, and he kept tugging on a handful by his ear. Sunlight bounced off his dark pupils, making them look nearly as black. "They found Lucy and Kate dead last night," he went on before Nick could answer.

"Everyone's talking about it," Phoebe pointed out, gesturing behind them. There was a frenzy of conversations flying around as nearly everyone in the school buzzed about the events of the previous night. As she drew her hands back, Sarah appeared behind her shoulder.

"God," she groaned, "Elliot and his pack found the article. They're discussing everything in such horrible detail."

"He's an idiot," said a voice from behind Nick.

"Whytnee!" Nick called out, reaching out to give an awkward side-hug (to be honest, this was the only kind he knew how to give). He pulled away after a couple seconds, and Whytnee ran a hand through her chocolate-colored bob reaching to just above her shoulders. There was a slight wave to the way her hair curled, and it accented her matching eyes nicely. "So I guess you heard about Kate and Lucy?"

"Yeah, it's horrible," Whytnee agreed, looking around the group. "Someone said the cops found a trail of blood leading all the way through the house." She shuddered slightly, wondering if it was true. "WCPT was saying this morning that they have no leads." WCPT was the local news station, anchored by Tanner McCrae and Keira Merritt. They were a good match for television, what with their matching flaming hairstyles and equally ridiculous outfits. You could tell they'd been born for the spotlight.

"You think it was a one-time thing?" Thomas asked suddenly, breaking the short silence that had fallen upon the group. "Like, do you think the killer will strike again?"

"I sure hope not," Sarah stated firmly, right as the bell began ringing. She looked up and over toward the double doors currently being propped open by two teachers. "I gotta go. Mr. Fowl will murder me if I'm late again."

"Too soon," Nick called out as she took off across the grass, bag in tow. He turned to face the others once she was gone.

"Don't you have Mr. Fowl, too?" Whytnee asked, eyeing Nick fiercely.

"Yeah." He made no move to leave, and Whytnee was once again torn because she couldn't tell what was going on in his head. She spent most of her life trying to figure out his motives.

After a few seconds of silence, Whytnee sighed loudly. "Go to class, Nick."

"Alright, alright," he said in defeat, holding up both palms in mock surrender. He crouched down quickly to grab his bag and took hold of Phoebe's wrist as he stood back up. "Come on, let's go before mom grounds us." He snickered as he walked away, pulling Phoebe with him, knowing Whytnee hated the nickname.

"You too, come on," Whytnee commanded of Thomas, tugging his arm until he stood up. Thomas let out a low groan, but followed after Nick slowly, grumbling all the way to the door. She waved at them when they passed under the arch and Nick turned back for a moment.

"Where are you going?" Nick demanded.

"Don't worry about it," Whytnee replied with a laugh. "I'll see you at lunch."


	3. Chapter 2: Crime Scene

**A/N: Would you guys be interested in a trailer? Let me know!**

 **Reviews are cherished, and I love you all!**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Two: Crime Scene**

 **(A/N: First Cool Hive by Moby- this is on the actual Scream soundtrack!)**

"Kate Marston." Rachel Locke was bent over the body with a camera, taking photos of every angle. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The sheriff, Amanda Stevenson, stood over her with arms crossed over her chest. She lifted one hand to brush a few strands of auburn hair behind her ear as she continued, "Cause of death- stab wounds to the shoulder and chest."

"Pretty nasty slash on her arm as well," Rachel said, pointing a finger from behind her lens. The shutter clicked a few more times, and then she stood up. "Alright, Darla can take over whenever. I'm done here." She and Amanda shared a look of sympathy, and then Rachel left the kitchen, heading off toward the front door to document Lucy Stevens' body.

"Rosie, did you get your samples?" Amanda asked a young woman crouching near the kitchen door. Rosie Lincoln swiped a hand across her tanned forehead before nodding in reply.

She held two specimen bags in the other hand, which she busied herself with placing into a metal lockbox. After placing a shard of glass into an envelope, she stood up and stretched a bit, and then lifted the box to carry it across the room. Her black ponytail swished lightly as she made her way to Amanda to give a report.

"Forensics are all done, Sheriff. We'll get these to the lab and let you know as soon as we have answers." Amanda nodded to her as she passed and walked over to where Kate's body lay in the kitchen. Deputy Allan Matthews stood over the lifeless body, dark skin contrasting sharply to Kate's light tone. He held something up for Amanda to take once she was standing in front of him.

"This was stuffed into the stab wound," Allan explained as Amanda took the crumpled, bloodied paper in her hands. She scanned the words written, and her eyes widened in horror. "Whoever did this seems to be very angry about something."

 **(A/N: Pause the song. You'll come back to it later)**

X X X

 **(A/N: Monsters by Hurrican Bells- can be found on New Moon soundtrack)**

Whytnee turned the corner quickly, arms full of books as she made her way to her locker. The last class of the day had just ended, and she was ready to get home and start on the homework for the weekend. When she stopped at the end of the row, she turned her head in time to see Nick round the corner, running down the hall toward her. He skidded to a stop at her feet and bent over, breathing heavily.

"You okay?" Whytnee asked, shoving the books onto the top shelf of the locker. Nick nodded once, still panting, and Whytnee laughed as she pulled out her sweater.

"I need a ride," He finally said.

"The bus hasn't left yet, and didn't you drive this morning?"

"Phoebe's taking my car to meet Sarah for some kind of girl thing."

Whytnee thought about it for a minute. Nick was always trying to con his way into rides after school, but she couldn't help having a soft spot for him- after all, he'd been one of the only people to defend her when the rumors came out last year. The rumors about her being pregnant, whoring around, holding drugs. It'd almost ruined her life, but thankfully Nick and Sophie Grafton- her best friend- had been there to dispel the lies and keep her in good spirits.

"Fine," Whytnee conceded after a moment, smiling at the sight of Nick's wide grin. "But you'll have to sit in the back."

"I hate the backseat," he argued immediately. "Who's so special they get shotgun?"

"Marcus."

"Who the shit's Marcus?" Nick demanded loudly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"My boyfriend," Whytnee explained with another laugh. Nick's eyes popped open. "Been going out for almost four months now. Where have you been?"

"When were you going to tell me about this?" Nick demanded, ignoring her last statement. He seemed pretty shocked to have been left out of the loop, much to Whytnee's surprise. She didn't think he cared _that_ much.

"Right now." Whytnee snickered and then straightened up when she caught sight of a dark-skinned boy stepping through a doorway at the end of the hall. She pointed a finger. "There he is." Nick looked to where she gestured and gasped lightly. Whytnee nudged his shoulder harshly, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Oh, are you babysitting tonight?" Marcus teased right off the bat, showing off a toothy grin. Whytnee had told him all about Nick even if she hadn't said a word about it Nick himself. Nick's features twisted into a grimace as he shoved his arms across his chest in a defensive stance.

"I'm riding shotgun," Nick informed Marcus with a straight face, practically glaring a hole through the guy. Marcus just laughed- Whytnee had explained how dramatic Nick could get.

"Fine with me," Marcus assured him. After a moment of thought, he stuck a hand out for Nick to shake. Nick just stared at it until Whytnee rammed her shoulder into his again.

"Stop being a baby and let's go," she scolded, smiling lightly when Nick finally reached out tentatively to shake Marcus' hand. Whytnee nodded slowly, clearly proud of herself. The three of them walked down the hallway toward the exit doors, Marcus slipping his hand into Whytnee's and Nick pretending to gag behind them.

X X X

 **(A/N: Continue playing First Cool Hive)**

Darla Tipton stood over the body of Lucy Stevenson in the morgue. Lucy's body was on a roll-out slab, covered from the neck down by a white sheet. Lucy's pale skin was only a couple shades darker. Darla peeled back the sheet to inspect the stab wounds to her chest and stomach, pausing every few seconds to scribble notes on a sheet of paper.

She didn't flinch when a loud buzzing noise sounded throughout the room; instead, she simply glanced up to see Amanda peeking through the swinging door's window, face lighting up in recognition when she saw Darla looking at her. Darla waved a hand, motioning for her to come in, and the sheriff pushed through the double doors with a half-smile on her face. In her hand was a filing folder.

"Squat on the fingerprint smudge," Amanda informed Darla as she stepped around a gurney. "Figured as much, but"- she held out the folder- "Allan found this in the school records about an hour ago." Darla took the folder and flipped through the pages, gasping slightly when she reached the end of the short document. "It could be a lead."

"You really think it has something to do with the murders?" Darla asked, passing the file back. "Taking that seriously would mean considering the possibility of another attack." Amanda's smile faltered at Darla's words- she'd considered this, and to be perfectly honest, she was almost positive the killer would strike again. This was only the beginning.

X X X

 **(A/N: Army of One by Coldplay)**

"Why is history so _boring_?" Marcus Matthews stretched out on his end of the sofa, one hand holding the textbook in his lap. Whytnee was sat on the opposite end, hovering over her own textbook with genuine interest. When she didn't reply to him immediately, Marcus reached over to snatch the book from her fingers, causing her to _yelp_. "And what's this that you're so involved in?"

"Civil War," Whytnee commented, automatically reaching back to retrieve her book. She hadn't even heard the first half of Marcus's question.

"You've betrayed me." Marcus wore an expression of mock sadness as Whytnee laughed.

"Everyone always hates history," she said, flipping a page over. Marcus busied himself with shoving the history book back into his bag. "My guess is because it's already happened- you can't change it. But they're always saying that phrase about people who don't learn"-

 **(Soundtrack stops)**

"What's this?" Marcus demanded suddenly, cutting Whytnee off mid-sentence. Her mouth had been open, and she snapped her jaw shut as she turned to face him completely. He held a sheet of paper in his hand. "It fell out."

"What?"

"This note," Marcus explained, showing it to her briefly. Whytnee caught a glimpse of the words written- _before it's too late_ \- and opened her mouth to ask for it to read when he said, "It was addressed to me. It fell out of my textbook."

Before either of them could say anything else, someone's phone began ringing. They both grabbed for theirs, Marcus realizing it was his when he looked at the screen to see the words _Unknown Caller_ glaring at him.

"Hello, Marcus," said the voice as soon as he pressed the button, not waiting for a greeting. "Did you get my message?"

"It's a pretty crappy joke," Marcus said, standing swiftly and knocking Whytnee's book off the coffee leaned over to pick it up as Marcus began pacing the room. "I could have you arrested for sending death threats." Whytnee's eyes popped open wide at the mention of _death threat_ and she watched Marcus wearily as he walked to the kitchen doorway and back.

"You can't arrest someone unless you find them," the stranger stated curtly. "Watch your back." _Click._

"What the hell?" He stared down at his phone incredulously, absentmindedly side-stepping into the arch that separated the den and kitchen.

"What's going on?" Whytnee asked, standing up and making her way toward him. She still hadn't seen the note, but she was curious.

"Some asshole," Marcus explained, which wasn't really an explanation at all. "He said 'watch your back'"- His voice was cut off by a gurgling sound in his throat. Whytnee started to ask what was wrong, but Marcus suddenly slumped forward, crashing into her. A glint of silver caught her eye as she hit the floor. There was a knife buried in his shoulder. **(Party Hard by Andrew W. K.)**

"Marcus?" Whytnee's voice was shrill. She shoved at him frantically, simultaneously trying to free herself and rouse him enough to get him moving. After a few terrifying seconds, his eyes fluttered open and he rolled away. She jumped up as soon as she could, turning right back around to help him to his feet. Her eyes searched desperately for any sign of the killer, but the house was empty as far as she could tell.

Except.

The back door stood wide open, and she was positive it had not been open a few minutes earlier.

"Come on," she urged, looking him over in search of a place to put her hands to support his body. The knife handle stuck out of his skin and she was too afraid to remove it. Finally, she shoved her arms under his shoulders and yanked him up. Thankfully, he could stand on his own two feet and she directed them both toward the open door in the back of the kitchen. They rushed past the counter and Whytnee could just barely touch the doorknob when a figure sprang up, shrouded in black from head to toe. Her eyes landed on the ghost-face mask covering the killer's face as they lunged forward to yank the knife out of Marcus' shoulder. He screamed out in pain and started to fall forward again, but Whytnee jammed her knee under him.

The stranger simply tilted his head to the side before jumping over top of them both, knocking Marcus to the floor and separating the two of them.

"Get away from him!" Whytnee sprang forward, crashing into the killer right as he'd poised the knife over Marcus, and let out a strangled moan as the blade sliced into the skin of her arm. She rolled a few times on the tiles and landed on her back, clutching one arm in the other, blood dripping through her fingers. She was already scrambling to her feet when the killer positioned himself over Marcus once more, raising the knife over his head.

Whytnee doesn't even have time to scream before the bloody knife is buried to the hilt in Marcus' chest, and a trickle of blood appears at his lips, bubbling over and running down to his chin. He reached down to yank the knife out quickly, raising it up to wipe clean on his robes and Whytnee realized with a gasp that this was her only chance to escape.

She'd barely made it to her feet when the masked man appeared behind her and plunged the knife into her side, causing her to sink right back down to the floor as her knees gave out on her. Her head slammed against the tile and she lost consciousness almost immediately, her eyelids giving one little flutter as the killer stepped over her and out the door, into the night.

 **A/N: Just a disclaimer- I don't own any of the songs I'm telling you to listen to, nor do I own Scream or Ghostface. Thanks and have a great day!**


	4. Chapter 3- Surprise!

**A/N: Remember to play and pause as directed. It enhances the reading process!**

 **-Justin**

 **Chapter Four: Surprise!**

 **(Play Monsters by Hurricane Bells- can be found on the New Moon soundtrack...don't judge me)**

Dr. George Hashing made his way down the hall slowly, checking in on each patient that had been placed in this ward. As he walked, he flipped through the pages of his clipboard, making a few notes every so often. When he arrived at the nurse's station, an older woman with gray hair and pale skin lifted a bony hand to take the chart from his hands.

"Make sure Alice notes the changes I've made," Dr. Hashing instructed. "Thanks, Mary." Mary smiled and nodded, but her smile was cut short when she noticed the dark-haired teen standing right behind the doctor.

"Dr. Hashing." The voice belonged to Sophie Grafton, Thomas's older brother and Whytnee's best friend. Dr. Hashing turned to face the girl with arms over his chest- he'd dealt with her enough in the past two days to know where this would go. "I've just come from the police department and Amanda said"-

"Good morning, Miss Grafton," Dr. Hashing greeted, cutting her off mid-sentence. She _huff_ ed and gave a pointed glare in his direction. Before either of them could say anything more, a black-haired woman in her forties appeared at the desk. She wiped at her eyes with her hands.

"How's she doing, Ms. Wyatt?" Mary asked with a sad smile. She plucked a fresh tissue from the box above the counter and passed it over.

"Finally asleep," Ms. Wyatt replied a nod and a sniffle. There was a moment of silence and then she turned to Dr. Hashing to say, "I'll be leaving now." Dr. Hashing gave a noise of assent and the two of them embraced quickly. Ms. Wyatt then twisted to face Sophie and told her, "She was asking for you earlier, sweetie." Another hug and then Ms. Wyatt was making her way toward the elevator bank at the end of the hall.

Dr. Hashing faced Sophie. "If you'll excuse me," he said. Sophie opened her mouth, but Dr. Hashing cut her off with, "Mary will answer any questions you might have. I'll be making my rounds." He started off down the hall before Sophie could say anything and she let out a heavy sigh once he was out of earshot.

"Don't mind him, love," Mary commented from behind. "He's got medical students this year."

 **(Stop the song)**

X

"Careful, dear," Whytnee groaned when Sophie hugged her a little too tight. "I've been gutted." She let out a laugh that was too loud in the quiet room, but Sophie was used to this kind of behavior. She pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and plopped down while Whytnee pushed herself to a sitting position.

"Am I the first to visit, or did Nick already beat me to it?" Whytnee laughed again and leaned back against the pillow.

"If anyone came in earlier, I don't remember." She sighed, trying to remember what had happened. It was all a blur after Marcus had been attacked. That reminded her. "How's Marcus? Is he still in surgery?"

"What?"

"I mean, he got hurt pretty bad. I assumed he would need surgery." Whytnee sat up a bit straighter to lean closer to Sophie, who swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Her hands went to her blonde hair, twisting and untwisting. She really didn't want to be the one to say it.

It was silent for the next few minutes. Sophie could feel her heartbeat in her throat. She'd known how serious Whytnee felt about Marcus.

 **(play Everglow by Coldplay)**

Finally, Whytnee spoke again. "He's dead, isn't he?" Her tone was strangely calm, considering the circumstances.

"I'm so sorry," Sophie whispered, reaching over to place a hand on Whytnee's arm. She looked down at Sophie's fingers curled over her skin and laid back again. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked softly after another seemingly endless stretch of quiet.

"No," Whytnee said curtly, lowering the head of the bed. She turned to lie on her side and winced, but stayed like she was. "I want to sleep." Sophie chewed her bottom lip and tried to think of something comforting. Nothing came to mind, and she decided to just let Whytnee be for now. They'd work through it later.

Sophie was halfway out the door when she heard Whytnee speak again. At first, she wasn't sure who Whytnee was supposed to be talking to. "It's only the beginning," Whytnee was saying, almost too quietly to make out properly. "They killed Lucy and Andrew, and they killed Marcus." There was a pause, and then Whytnee let out a heavy sigh, and Sophie left the room wondering if there was any truth to Whytnee's monologue. The cops hadn't said if the murders were connected, but it would've made sense if they were.

 **(Stop the song)**

X

The next day, Wexford High School was brimming with noise about the previous night's events. Nick Carson walked down the hallway, trying his best to tune out the voices chattering about Marcus and Whytnee. Nobody knew anything for certain, and Nick found himself biting his tongue to keep from lashing out at Elliot Stone when he appeared at Nick's locker with phone in hand.

"Have you heard the news?" Elliot's green eyes were on the screen in front of him. Nick ignored him, glaring at the textbook in his hands. "Looks like we may have a serial killer in our small boring town."

"Nothing's been released yet," Nick snapped as he stuffed the book in the cubby space above his head. Elliot shrugged one shoulder and tapped his phone screen a few times. When Elliot made no motion to leave, Nick turned to face him. "Can I help you with something?"

"Guess not," Elliot huffed, shoving his phone into his back pocket. "Thought you might know something since your little girlfriend was the one who got the knife."

"She's not"-

"Go bother someone else, Elliot," Phoebe demanded, suddenly appearing beside Nick. She made a little shooing motion with her hand and Elliot scowled at both of them before turning on his heels and marching off toward the nearest classroom. Phoebe watched him walk away and then twisted around to look at Nick, noticing how he was gripping his backpack so tightly it had turned his knuckles white. "You okay there, sport?"

"I hate him so much."

 **(Play Kingdom Come by The Civil Wars)**

"Understatement of the century, but whatever." Phoebe laughed and turned to open her own locker that was situated a few down from Nick's. Hers was much more festive, with photos and magnets lining the interior. One of the two of them, Phoebe's arm tossed casually over Nick's shoulder. Another picture that showed a stream in the background and Nick reaching down to pull a soaking-wet Sarah Thorne out of the water while Phoebe stood off to the side, doubling over with laughter. Nick remembered taking most of them.

He found himself staring at one in particular- their entire group of friends had gathered for a party last year during the holidays. Nick had been caught by Phoebe under the mistletoe and so had kissed him on the cheek while everyone else cheered. Whytnee had been the one to snap the photo, even managing to capture the tomato-red blush on his cheeks.

"Nick." It had been one of the best nights of his life, and ever since then he'd been searching for an excuse to get back to that moment. " _Nick_." Of course, in his ever-present obliviousness, he was completely unaware that Phoebe remembered that night perfectly. He also didn't know that if you looked close enough, you'd see the rosy blush coloring her tanned skin as well.

"Nicholas Adam Carson!" Nick actually jumped at the sound of his full name being used. He jerked his head back and forth and then smiled sheepishly when he caught sight of Phoebe hovering over him with her hands on her hips. "The bell is about to ring and we're going to be late if we don't move. Comprende?" She moved one hand to pat his shoulder and he nodded in response, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt.

 **(Stop the song)**

X

"Elliot Stone, put that cellphone away." Henry Fowl's voice rang out through the classroom as Elliot swiped through the texts coming in. He raised his head up briefly and then continued scrolling. Mr. Fowl glared at him from the front of the room, where he'd been about to start writing for today's lesson.

"WCPT just released their report." This came from Mitchell Porter, who sat in the back of every class and always had his jet-black hair slicked straight back. He held his phone up like someone had asked for it, and Nick looked back at him.

"What's it say?" Nick asked.

Mitchell's eyes went back to the screen and he read the words out loud. "Marcus Matthews, aged 17, was found dead last night at the home of Whytnee Wyatt, aged 17, in the aftermath of what appears to be a second murder in the small town of Wexford." He paused a moment to look around. "Doesn't say it the other one made it out."

"The _other one_ has a name," Nick began, and Phoebe reached over to touch his arm. Their eyes met for a moment, and he shut his mouth.

"Whynee Wyatt suffered a near-fatal stab wound in the left side," Elliot announced suddenly, standing up out of his chair.

"Dear God," Mr. Fowl muttered. He'd been writing something on the board, but now he let the marker fall into the holder along the bottom and walked over to his desk. He pulled his own cellphone out of the middle drawer and tapped the screen twice.

"You know anything we don't?" Mitchell asked loudly. Mr. Fowl ignored him.

"Looks like she's in the hospital," Sarah called out, waving her hand back and forth. She locked eyes with Nick. "That's all they've said so far."

"We'll go visit her after school," Phoebe promised, giving Nick's shoulder a squeeze. Before she could say anything else, her phone began buzzing on top of her desk. She picked it up with her free hand and let out a little gasp. "Nick, look," she said, holding it out to him. It was a text from Sophie saying that Whytnee was pretty sedated, but stable. "She found out about Marcus," Phoebe continued sadly, scrolling down. "She's pretty upset."

"Obviously," Nick agreed with a nod. "Yeah, let's all go see her this afternoon. She'd like that." He hopped out of his seat to pack his things up as the bell rang out and Phoebe watched him a few seconds.

"Oh," Phoebe finally uttered, and Nick snapped his head back to her. "Sarah's got practice at three, and Thomas got in another fight today. He's grounded."

"Just us, then," Nick offered, and Phoebe nodded with a smile.

"Just us," she agreed.


	5. Chapter 4: InvestigationInterrogation

**A/N: Guess who's back (hint: it's not Slim Shady)**

 **Chapter Four: Investigation/Interrogation**

Sirens blared as police and emergency crews pulled into the driveway of 1307 Ellison Avenue- the Wyatt Residence. Two officers- Daniel Parker and Martin Quincy- stepped out of one vehicle and shared an anxious glance. Their matching bald heads and dark skin contrasted sharply against the orangey light blaring down on them. They'd only heard a few seconds of the conversation between the sheriff and EMT's, but they both knew why they were here.

After a minute had passed, Amanda got out of her own cruiser and joined the two men at the edge of the grass. Before she could give either of them orders, the front door whipped open, revealing a short, stocky man. He stood with his back to the frame, blonde hair reflecting the morning sun, and the word _Coroner_ spilled across his backside, embroidered letters stitched into his jacket. He kept a firm grip on the stretched before him, and another, taller man stood on the other end. Between them lay a black body bag. The coroner placed a hand gingerly on the bag as they made their way down the steps, trying to keep it in place.

"Marcus," Daniel said quietly as the coroner passed them, glancing at Amanda meaningfully. "EMT said Wendy Wyatt placed the call around six."

"Shit," Amanda snapped to nobody in particular. The two deputies shared a look and then Amanda was saying, "Does Allan know yet?"

As if in response, a third police cruiser suddenly appeared, sirens blaring as it skidded into the driveway. The driver was out of the car before it'd stopped moving completely and Amanda cursed again when she realized who was here. Allan Matthews watched the body being loaded into the coroner's van for a moment, and then he was walking toward them. He took three steps and slammed into someone.

"Who was it?" He demanded, trying to get around Amanda. There was a _slam_ as the van's door was shut and he spoke again. "Who are they taking?" His voice shook with every word, and Amanda dreaded every moment of what was about to happen.

"Allan," Amanda started, speaking softly, but before she could break the news, he suddenly shoved her to the side and took off running. "Allan!"

She ran after him, but he was faster, and as soon as his hand touched the door, he threw it open and climbed inside, much to the protest of the coroner. "You don't need to see this, Alla"-

"Shut up, Mike," Allan practically spit, and Mike simply stepped back. There was no talking him out of it. Amanda stood by the van door, knuckles white as she clutched the door frame. With trembling fingers, Allan peeled the zipper back, and though he'd known- because they would've told him if it hadn't been- he found himself ill-prepared for the sight of his son's lifeless face and staggered back, tumbling right out of the van. Amanda grabbed him as he fell, and he landed on top of her as they hit the pavement.

For a good minute, he was frozen, unable to move. Amanda shimmied herself out from under him and kneeled in front of him. "I'm so sorry, Allan," she said softly, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder. He stared past her, eyes blinking too quickly and she slowly drew her arm back.

"It can't be," he finally whispered, leaning back slightly. Loose pebbles in the asphalt dug into his palms, but he ignored the pain as his mind reeled. He looked up at Amanda. "He can't have been part of this."

"We could've been wrong," Amanda told him, stretching out once more. This time he took her hand and hoisted himself up. "Those records could a total waste."

"My son." The words were practically a whimper, and Amanda knew that Allan was in no shape to handle this investigation. He was already leaning towards the van again, searching for the sight he didn't need to see again. Suddenly he was beating his fists against Amanda's chest, as if it were somehow her fault. "My son!" he said again, yelling this time. Amanda let him get it out, and after a few seconds, he relaxed in her arms, shoulders bobbing every so often as he was racked with sobs.

X

Amanda's heels clicked on the hospital linoleum as she made her way to the information desk. A friendly-looking woman with graying hair greeted her and Amanda held up her badge. "I'm here to see Whytnee Wyatt. She was admitted a few hours ago." It'd been less than eight hours since they'd received the call- a possible 1-8-7 at the Wyatt Residence.

The secretary clicked through a few pages on her screen and then took a notepad to write down the room number and directions. "Thank you, Stacy," Amanda said, noting the badge on the woman's shirt, as she took the paper.

"Of course, Sheriff," Stacy replied, smiling. "Should I call ahead and let them know?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Amanda told her. "Thank you again." Stacy went back to her work and Amanda turned toward the bank of elevators to their right, grinning to herself when one opened right away.

At the third floor nurses' station, Amanda stood for a moment. A nurse in royal blue scrubs was walking past, and stopped in front of the sheriff. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

Amanda glanced at the woman's badge and said, "Hi, Susan. I'm looking for 513."

"I'll show you. Follow me." The nurse had a cheerful attitude, leading Amanda down to the other end of the hall with a smile. As they walked, she asked, "Is there some kind of trouble?"

"Oh no," Amanda assured her. "Miss Wyatt is a witness in an investigation. I just need to ask her a few questions."

"Here we are," Susan called out when they reached the door. Voices could be heard inside, and Amanda thanked Susan before knocking. There was a faint "Come in" and she pushed the door open to reveal Whytnee sitting up on the side of the bed, talking with someone holding a wheelchair.

"You're awfully stubborn Miss Wyatt," the man was chiding playfully, "Dr. Hashing only wants you walkin' in therapy for now." He smiled before adding, "You'll get out of here in no time." He pulled the wheelchair away from the bed and moved to push it out the door. "'scuse me, Ma'am." Amanda stepped to the side as the man passed, then walked into the room.

"Hey, Sheriff," She greeted, looking slightly relieved. Amanda thought she might have expected Allan to be with her. She strode across the room to the bed and took note of Whytnee's bandage before sweeping her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry Whytnee," Amanda said, voice muffled by Whytnee's shoulder. They broke apart after a few seconds and Amanda took a seat in the chair across from the bed. "I hate to do this to you, but I have some questions."

"Don't worry about it, Sheriff," Whytnee said, waving a hand passively. "Anything to help."

Amanda took out her notepad and flipped to a clean sheet. "Do you have any idea why someone would want to hurt you or Marcus?"

"I try to be nice to everyone I meet," Whytnee explained, "but sometimes people don't like nice. Marcus is- was the same way. Everyone at school loved him."

"What can you tell me about the note?"

"It was weird, I can tell you that much." Whytnee closed her eyes for a moment, remembering. "It had some kind of rhyming thing on it- 'if you lie, prepare to die' or something like that. I figured it was a prank, but I guess not."

"What about the person who attacked you?"

"You know," Whytnee started, "I swear I looked right at him, but I can't remember what he looked like."

"Trauma can do that," Amanda told her. "Make you forget things surrounding an event. Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"Make sure you tell her about how you kicked ass." Startled, Amanda jumped up. She hadn't realized anyone else was in the room, but now she sighed heavily as she eyed Sophie in the corner, curled up in the recliner.

"That won't be necessary, Sophie," Amanda said as she tucked her notebook into her back pocket. "I think Whytnee's initial statement covers all of that." She turned back to face Whytnee and said, "I think I've got all I need. I'll be in touch if I have any more questions. Get some rest."

"Thanks, Sheriff. Tell Allan I'm so sorry. I wish I knew something else to say."

One hand on the door, Amanda nodded. "Of course." As she left, Nick came barreling in. "Heard you had too much fun," Nick said by way of greeting, plopping down on the end of the bed. He looked her up and down, eyes settling on the wound in her side. "Ouch."

"'Tis but a scratch," Whytnee laughed. "I can't believe you gave up all your exciting plans just to come see me."

"Yeah, well, I was supposed to stop the zombie apocalypse, but I came here instead." Nick grinned and added, "You should feel special."

"Where's the rest of the babysitter's club?" Sophie asked from behind, causing Nick to glare in her direction. "How'd you even get up here alone? You're like, twelve."

"I'm not a child," Nick informed her, gritting his teeth. "I'm a freshman at Wexford Central."

"And we're seniors, kid. Next year, we'll be in college. You'll still be at the bottom of the food chain."

"Whatever," Nick snapped, making a scene of turning completely away from Sophie. "I didn't come here to argue with you." To Whytnee, he asked, "What's her deal?"

"Senioritis," Whytnee explained. "Just ignore her." Before he could reply, he let out a _yelp_ when a rubber band hit his arm.

"The fuck?" He looked back at Sophie, who was giggling with a hand clapped over her mouth.

"You have terrible reflexes, kid," she said between laughs.

"Stop calling me that."

"Would you prefer little boy instead?"

"I'd prefer you shutting up." Nick hopped off the bed and flicked the rubber band back at Sophie. She squealed and ducked to avoid it. "I'll come by again tomorrow. Maybe some of my diaper mates can join me then."

"Bye, Nick," Whytnee said with a chuckle. "Thanks for stopping by." He left the room without another word, and once he was gone, Whytnee looked at Sophie.

"What?"

"You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"


End file.
